Imprint
by QuirkyPixie
Summary: Kim never thought that the love of her life, Jared, would ever notice her. But then he turned into a werewolf and everything changed.
1. A Day In The Life

I couldn't believe my luck, I was sitting beside Jared _again _this year; and all because he has a knack for being late to English. I arrived extra early and retrieved my usual seat at the back of the classroom next to the wooden bookshelves, my fingers crossed underneath my desk that no-one would come and sit beside me. Of course, no-one did. I'm not exactly what you would call a popular or admired kind of person, I'm more of a person who blends into the background; someone that no-one would ever miss.

But back to my point, I arrived early and waited for the bell to ring to tell us that class had begun. That was Jared's cue to walk sluggishly into the classroom and flash Ms. Gordon a lazy smile that would have melted any woman. All of the seats were gone, and I was surprised that none of his friends ever kept him a seat; he was quite popular with everyone.

But only the seat next to me was vacant, and he seemed to notice this too; because he sauntered indolently towards my desk and sat himself down next to me. Of course, I never even got a smile or a nod from him; he didn't ever seem to acknowledge me whenever we sat together in English. It was like I was invisible.

I took a deep breath. I had planned this day all summer and I knew what I had to say to him; even a hello would have been a big step towards knowing him better. But I'm far from confident, this was always a problem. And as soon as I plucked up the courage to open my mouth, Ms. Gordon began checking our attendance in her squeaky voice. I tried to block her out and continued to stare at Jared, just waiting to find my voice again.

"Kimberley Brown?" the teacher called out, patiently keeping her eyes on her book; waiting for an answer. When it didn't come, she looked up from her book and spotted me staring at Jared vacantly. "Kimberley Brown? I won't call your name again," she warned, shooting me a very harsh glance. I finally snapped out of it and turned my head to look at the red-faced English teacher. "Present," I muttered.

* * * * *

The English lesson passed quickly, and I spent the majority of it doodling in my journal. Little did I know that Jared was looking in my direction? My first thought was that he changed his mind and actually found me attractive, but after a moment's dwelling on that first thought; I realised that there was as much a chance of that happening as there was of me getting up on the table and doing a hula dance.

My second thought was that he was looking past me to the air-heads of the classroom that just happened to have larger breasts than me. It was more likely than the first thought and probably the most realistic, but I wanted to know. The suspense was killing me.

So I turned my head slowly and peeked at him from behind the curtain of brown hair that was covering my face. He wasn't looking at me or the bimbos across the room; he was looking at something else, on my desk. Curiously, I glanced down at my desk and almost took a heart-attack on the spot. My journal was lying wide open on the desk, bright red hearts visible all over the pages. "Kim Roberts" it read on one page, "Kim Hearts Jared" it said on another. My undying love for the guy was basically printed all over the heart-infested pages. And in visible red marker at the bottom of the page was "MRS JARED ROBERTS" in giant capital letters. Yes, a heart attack was definitely on the way.

In one mechanical movement, I shut the book with a loud thud. My hand gripped the book as if it were a life-line, my fingernails digging into the pink leather. I didn't dare look at the boy next to me, embarrassment and anger pierced at my very being; life was so harsh. I waited impatiently until the bell rang to dismiss the class, I stood up before everyone else and slung my bag over my shoulder as quickly as I could; never letting the journal go once. Tears pricked my eyes as I ran from the classroom.

I couldn't help but wonder how he reacted. Was he smirking or was he angry? Maybe he was just disgusted that someone like me was writing his name all over their journal like some kind of creepy stalker. He probably got that all the time though, he was just so gorgeous that every girl basically stammered when talking with him. But at least they got a few words out of him. He never talked to me. Ever.

* * * * *

The day past slowly after the incident in English, I spent lunch in the library by myself; basically cutting myself off from the rest of the world. The lessons after lunch went by without a word to me as I sat by myself, it wasn't hard to act invisible, and I already was in school.

I rode my bike home after school, the journey being quiet as always. But I took a different route home this time, through silent neighbourhoods and past an eerie forest. It wasn't long until I was outside my house and parking my bike by the front door for the next day to school.

"Kimmy? Is that you?" a hoarse voice called from the downstairs bedroom. I knew that voice, and dreaded hearing it call my name. It was my father. Or should I say my _sick _father? He had been diagnosed with lung cancer just a few months ago and continued to become more and more sick every day. And seeing as my mother left her job to come home and take care of him, we were also suffering from severe money problems.

"Yeah, it's me dad," I answered, throwing my shoulder bag down on the floor in the hallway and walking towards his bedroom door. It looked like my mom was busy with dinner, because I could smell the mouth-watering scent of spicy chicken from the kitchen.

Reluctantly, I drew myself away from the delicious odour and entered my father's dark bedroom. As per usual, his curtains were closed so that no light could get in whatsoever and no windows were open, this made his room humid and stuffy. I didn't know how he could even breathe in there. That's right, because he could barely breathe at all. I walked towards the wooden chair by his bedside and took a seat next to him.

"Could you tell your mum that I'm not feeling very hungry today? I don't want her making anything for me today," he croaked out wearily, his eyes half-closed as if he were about to drift asleep. My brow furrowed as I watched my once-energetic father lie there with no will to live anymore. We were told that he might not live it through the full year; this caused me to break down mentally. I was always close to my father and he was always so happy and perky that it was hard to stop smiling when around him. But you couldn't smile anymore, there was no reason to.

I nodded my head and did my poorest attempt at a slight smile. "Sure dad," I replied, my voice thick with so much grief that it was hard to ignore. The corner of his lips twitched slightly as if he were trying to smile again. This was what he always did when he tried to cheer mum or me up, he would try and smile when he heard us sounding sad or sluggish.

I waited patiently for his answer, but it never came. He was asleep now, like he usually was. So I left the room on tip-toes, closing the door carefully.

"Dad doesn't want dinner," I called to my mother, stepping on the heels of my sneakers as I took them off without un-tying the laces. Unsure if she heard me or not, I trudged up the wooden staircase to my bedroom and tried not to think about my dying father downstairs; it hurt too much if I dwelled upon him too much. So I thought about something else. Jared.

My bedroom was next to the bathroom and furthest away from my mother's room, it was pretty handy when I got up in the morning though; I got the bathroom first. When I entered my small bedroom, a vivid array of pink welcomed me. I used to be obsessed with the colour pink when I was a little kid, but couldn't afford to paint it all over again now that I was a teenager, I would just mess it up; and it's not like I can ask my dad to help me. My rickety single bed was cluttered with school books from the night before and my bed still wasn't made, my purple pyjamas were still lying on the floor from this morning and the curtains were closed. It kind of reminded me of the dark room my father stayed in, and I instantly regretted not cleaning this morning.

Without hesitation, I walked towards my full-length mirror in the corner of the room and took off the faded blue hoodie that I was wearing and examined my body. I was curvy alright, definitely not skinny, but not fat either. My wispy brown hair hung down to my shoulders and my lips were pulled into a frown. I wasn't beautiful in my eyes, I didn't know what possessed me to even get so crazy about someone I didn't even know. But I couldn't stop thinking about him. Jared.


	2. Everything Would Change

A few weeks had passed since I saw Jared staring at my love-swamped journal and I was getting even more paranoid by the day. I wouldn't have been paranoid if he simply came back into school again the next day and pretended that he had never even seen his name plastered on every inch of my journal; but that wasn't the case at all. This is what happened.

I reluctantly made my way to school the day after the incident; although I had complained to my mother for a full hour before, telling her that I wasn't feeling well and that it was probably the spicy chicken from last night's dinner. She wasn't buying it. I had unwillingly taken my seat at the back of the English class and waited for Jared to come in late again and probably sit on the floor than sit next to me- the creepy stalker. But he didn't come in at all…

I was relieved that first day that he never showed up for school and I was even more comforted when he didn't come in the day after that either. But something fishy was definitely going on when he refused to turn up at school for three whole weeks. And that was why I became so paranoid.

Surely he didn't stop coming to school because of what he had seen written in my journal about him? Maybe he even moved school because he thought I was stalking him or something? The suspicious and fearful thoughts seemed to come during the day (causing my grades to slip as I didn't pay attention in class) and when I went home, my mother had even noticed a difference in my behaviour- although she thought that I was probably just depressed about dad again. Even in my sleep I would wake up with nightmares. It was getting out of control.

* * * * * *

After three weeks of sheer torment, I had to go back to school again after a very long and boring weekend stuck in the house. It was almost painful to think of sitting in English class and watching the empty seat beside me just sit there, dauntingly. But I had managed to drag myself out of my bedcovers and make my way to school on my bike- although I was quite surprised that I even managed to get myself dressed. I was completely unaware that when I walked into that English classroom; my life would never be the same again.

* * * * * *

Jared sat in his usual seat in the back of the class next to me that day- and he was unusually early. He had never been early to school in his life before. I could only stand in the doorway of the English class, open-mouthed and looking idiotic. He looked much different from when she had seen him a few weeks ago, he looked a lot bigger and more toned and muscled- she could practically see that his plain black shirt barely even fit him anymore. His hair was cut up short, in a slightly more attractive way, and his bronze-coloured skin seemed more glossy and soft-looking. It was odd how she could even notice these things on one person.

I was just about to run out of the room to hyperventilate or take a short heart attack; but as I turned I saw that Ms. Gordon, the English teacher, was walking towards the classroom with her many books under her arm and a cup of steaming coffee in her free hand. There was no time to escape, or I would definitely get caught and put in detention for skipping class.

"Ah, Kimberley," Ms. Gordon chimed in her annoyingly squeaky voice, squeezing past me and making her way over to her desk at the front of the classroom. "Aren't you going to join us, Miss. Brown?" she had said, although her voice seemed miles away. But after a minute or two of silently freaking out, I realised that the English teacher was addressing me. I threw her an apologetic smile and raced to the back of the class to my seat next to Jared.

He didn't seem to be paying attention to me or Ms. Gordon; he simply stared past everyone as if they weren't even there. I knew that look more than anyone else- the look that branded you invisible. Hopefully, he wouldn't even notice me and he would have forgotten all about the incident with my journal.

"You shall write a report on Harper Lee's novel, 'To Kill a Mockingbird', and you may work in pairs if you wish," Ms. Gordon squeaked, taking a seat behind her rickety wooden desk and holding up a book that read "Ways to improve your grammar", but I could swear that I saw the glossy pages of a magazine peeping out from behind the English book.

But I had more important things to worry about that Ms. Gordon's teaching abilities. I had to work with a partner and as I looked around the room, everyone else seemed to be working already in their pairs. Jared didn't seem to move from his seat at all, which meant that we would end up working together. Usually, that would be a thrill for me; but I was too worried to even look over at him.

After a few minutes of sheer silence between the both of us, I looked over at Jared and took in his wild beauty up close. I almost gasped aloud as I noticed that he was much more amazing-looking than before- if that was even possible. But fortunately for me, he was looking straight ahead and he didn't seem to notice my inability to speak or move at that moment.

"Um, Jared?" I muttered, feeling slightly idiotic; but I loved the way his name felt on my tongue when I said it aloud. He didn't seem to even hear me, never mind see me. "Jared?" I said a bit louder; still nothing. Unfortunately, the last thing I could do was touch him to make him turn around, and even the thought of laying a finger on those perfectly-muscled arms made my stomach do somersaults. But if I wanted to pass English, it was necessary.

Hesitantly, I reached out my hand and tapped him gently on the shoulder. This definitely seemed to get his attention. He jumped away from me quickly, as if I had given him some kind of electric shock. He looked at his shoulder in amazement and then his gaze fell upon me- the sheepish, plain, boring Kim. But the way he was looking at me was unnatural; it was like he was in some kind of trance and he couldn't take his eyes away from me. I had to admit, it was scary.

* * * * * *

So he seemed to stare at me for about ten minutes straight, barely blinking and barely moving an inch. It was odd; like he could look into my plain blue eyes and see right into my soul, read my mind, feel what I was feeling. That one single look that he gave me seemed to spread warmth through my very being, from my head right down to my toes. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I was surprised that the whole class couldn't hear it.

After another few minutes, he seemed to straighten up a little; but his eyes never left mine- not once. He gave me this crooked kind of smirk, like he _could_ hear the thumping of my heart. It was in those few minutes, that I knew my life would change. It was in those few minutes that a voice in the back of my head told me, _Jared Roberts is in love with you._ Weird, huh?


End file.
